Games Divas Play (A Diva Mystery Novel) (19 page)

I swallowed hard and braced myself for the Mack truck now comi
ng for me.

“And as part of our first initiative,
DivaDish
is going to be the exclusive event, web, and magazine partner to their hottest property, the new reality show
What Lai
la Wants.
”

“Uh, partner?” How was I going to partner with the tramp that was breaking up my best friend’s
marriage?

“Yes, partner, Nia,” DeAnna said, sighing at what she clearly viewed as my o
btuseness.

“You and I are going to have a meeting with Miki Woods, the VP of reality programming, this afternoon at three o’clock to discuss plans for our sponsorship and coverage of Laila’s premiere party at All-Star weekend in Phoenix next week. Please be prepared to discuss other ideas about how we can integrate Laila and the show into the magazine and on
the site.”

All I could manage was to nod my head affirmatively as my mind reeled with this new turn
of events.

“Look, Nia, this isn’t going to be a problem, is it?” DeAnna asked. “As I’ve discussed with you before, you can’t let your friendships and misplaced loyalties get in the way of business. I hope I can count on you to get this done. If not, let me know, and I’ll find someone
who will.”

With that final statement, DeAnna stood up and strode out of my office. MJ scurried in after she left and closed the door. I sat down in my chair and put my head in
my hands.

“What’s going on?” MJ asked. “What did she
want now?”

As I ran down the details of the acquisition of Glam Network and the orders to integrate their content and talent into our properties, MJ’s eyes be
came wide.

“You mean we have to work with that skank-ass tramp, Laila?” he said, shaking his head. “Girl, for once I wish our office was like an episode of
Mad Men
and I could get you a stiff one from the office drink cart, ’cause you
need it.”

“You ain’t never lied, MJ. How am I going to explain to Vanessa that I now have to not only work with Laila, but I also have to sponsor her premie
re party?”

“Look, she’ll understand. It’s business, right? It’s completely out of your control. What could you possibly be expected to do
about it?”

“I haven’t even told you the other piece. Brace yourself,” I said as I ran down Vanessa’s own breaking news about her pregnancy and her request that we be the ones to break
the story.

“OK, seriously. Damn a drink cart, we need to get to the nearest bar. Do not pass go and do not collect two hundred dollars. It’s like we’re in an episode of
One Life to Live
up in th
is piece.”

“I know, it’s crazy, right? What the hell am I goi
ng to do?”

“I don’t even know, but it does, however, look like we’re going to All-Star. What am I going to wear with all those handsome ball players checking me out?” MJ kicked his legs out in the chair and pointed his toes like a Vegas
showgirl.

“Don’t nobody at the All-Star weekend want your crazy ass,” I said, sucking
my teeth.

“Watch,” MJ said, running his index finger down his skinny little legs. “You just wait and see. When those boys get a look at all of this? Irre
sistible.”

“I so can’t even stand you right about now,” I said, shaking my head and turning to my computer while cringing at the thought of my overflowing e-mail in-box. I took the file with the Diablo Negro information and dropped it into my Louis Vuitton tote under my desk so that I wouldn’t forget to take it home tonigh
t to read.

“You know you love me. OK, back to work. I’m going to go grab Che, so you can tell her to get cracking on her big exclusive interview with Mrs. King, and I’ll alert the photo editor to start coming up with concepts for the accompanying photo shoot,” MJ said as he switched out of my office with thoughts of All-Star dancing in
his head.

CHAPTER 15

Laila

T
he Los Angeles sunshine felt so good and was certainly a welcome change from cold New York in February. I’m glad Miki Woods suggested meeting in West Hollywood at the Ivy for lunch today so that we could sit outside on the patio and I could ditch the heavy layers for a cute strapless Michael Kors safari-style dress, fuchsia snakeskin ankle-wrap Manolo Blahnik sandals, and my new Gucci sunglasses. I knew I always had to be ready when the paparazzi started clicking. I’d have to make sure to stroll down Melrose and dip in and out of a few boutiques so that the photographers could get some full-length shots as well. This dress was too cute to waste on just being shot seated at a table. Plus, that wouldn’t get me any more free clothes from Michael Kors if the PR rep didn’t see their designs photographed on me in magazines a
nd online.

Another bonus of today’s lunch: a sister could work on her tan and get a little glow back in her brown skin while Miki discussed the launch plans for the show as well as the photo shoot for our joint
Black Enterprise
cover for a story on the big business of reality TV. This was a big week of nonstop meetings, interviews, and photo shoots leading up to the
Whatever Laila Wants
world premiere party at the Desert Palms Club in Phoenix at the end of the week. And even though a lot of the ball players were scheduled to host their own annual event that Friday night, the Glam Network events team said they were already turning people away from the party. Sounds like a good proble
m to have.

But a bad problem to have was that it had been two weeks since I heard from my baby, Marcus. And Kareem was suddenly a ghost as well. I understood that Marcus was holed up with that crazy wife of his, but he could at least shoot me a text message or respond to the sexy photo I sent to him from the Suga’ n’ Spice dressing room. I m
ean, damn.

Just then my thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of an incoming text. I grabbed my iPhone from the top of the table where I had set it earlier, hoping that it was Marcus finally returning one of my many messages. I looked down at the phone. Damn, it was on
ly Kareem.

-Just landed in LA . . . What time c
an U meet?

I typed back quickly
: Meet at L’Ermitage hotel, my room 10
42 @ 7:00.

-Perfect, I’m staying down the street at Fou
r Seasons.

-Whatever, don’
t be late.

I tossed the phone into my new Marc Jacobs clutch I had scooped up at Neiman Marcus yesterday. Then I saw Miki pull up to the valet stand in front of the restaurant in a sleek white BMW roadster with the top down and Jay Z blasting. I got to admit, I liked her style. This cocoa-brown sister with natural curly hair that framed her face must have been at least five foot ten without heels. Wearing one of her signature Gucci suits and crisp white blouses, Miki was a powerful Hollywood player that I was happy to have on my team. She was also a serious ballbuster who, at just twenty-nine, had bulldozed her way into the reality TV space with a roster of hit after hit must-see shows. She had changed the landscape of reality TV and the Glam Network fortunes, so my agent, Steven, wasn’t happy that I wanted to take today’s meeting solo. He only agreed not to crash the lunch when I promised him that I wouldn’t verbally agree to anything we hadn’t already approved and that I, of course, wouldn’t sign any papers he hadn’t reviewed in advance. I told him it would all be fine and that I’d call to fill him in right after we
finished.

“Hello, love,” Miki said after the hostess walked her over to my table in the center of the brick patio. She had first stopped to greet Nia Long who was lunching with Gabrielle Union, and
Jet
magazine editor in chief Mitzi Miller lunching with Steve and Marjorie Harvey. I made a mental note to confirm that they were all included on the list for the lau
nch party.

“Hi, Miki. Smooches,” I said as she leaned down to kiss me on the cheek. She then set her orange Hermès portfolio and large black crocodile Birkin bag on one of the empty chairs at our table and then took off her tapered black blazer and hung it along the back of
her chair.

“Whenever I have a chance to come out to Los Angeles, I always salivate for one of their delicious Cobb salads,” she said as she dismissed the hovering hostess who tried to hand her a menu with a wave of one of her French-manicu
red hands.

“That sounds delish, Miki,” I said, following her lead and handing the hostess my menu as well. Our waiter, a dead ringer for Ashton Kutcher’s younger brother if I ever saw one, came over to fill our water glasses and take our dri
nk orders.

“So, how is my newest reality star doing?” Miki asked as she smiled brightly and squeezed a fresh slice of lemon into
her glass.

“I’m good, Miki. Just eager for my show to premiere. I’ve been tweeting and posting comments on Facebook, writing on my Tumblr, and postin
g photos.”

“Our marketing team is so excited that you’re so into social media. I think last I heard, you had over six hundred and fifty thousand followers on
Twitter!”

“I broke a million last night when I posted some of the outtakes from the lingerie shopping trip. Don’t worry, it wasn’t too much to give away the episode, but I posted two shots and asked my fans which outfit I should wear to surprise my boyfriend. And the
Extra!
TV segment with Mario Lopez last night to tease the show hel
ped also.”

“That’s great. Keep tweeting, posting to Facebook and Tumblr, Pinterest, and any other of the key social media sites. We want to continue to build the grassroots buzz for the show’s launch. I want your new show to be the biggest debut our network has
ever had.”

“You know I’m ready to get my hustle on, Miki. Don’t you worry.” The waiter returned with our Cobb salads and set them in fr
ont of us.

“I’m a hustler, too, Laila. I didn’t get to be VP of Reality TV at Glam Network at twenty-five without taking some risks and being able to know a star and a hot concept when I see one,” she said confidently in between bites of
her salad.

“And that’s why I’m so thrilled to be on your team. We’re going to make history because I came to win. Everybody ain’t about this life. But I am, and nothing is going to stand i
n my way.”

“I’m glad to hear that, because I have some more news for you. As you may or may not have heard, Glam Network was just acquired by PrimeTime Med
ia Group.”

Oh shit.
They were taken over. Was this chick about to tell me she was leaving? I braced myself to call little Ashton back over with a stiff drink as she continued. I knew I couldn’t do this show without her. I reached for my iced tea and took a long draw from the straw to calm m
y stomach.

“So with Glam Network being acquired by one of the largest media companies in the world, we now have many more platforms and internal partnerships that we can exploit for the launch of your show. Before I jumped on the company jet to leave New York last night, I had a meeting with DeAnna George, the president of publishing at PrimeTime Media and the editor in chief of
DivaDish
, Nia Bullock, to discuss how we can work together. She’s cool. I’m sure you’ll really like working
with her.”

“That’s great, Miki. I like the sound of that and look forward to meeting her.” I exhaled and took a small bite of my salad. I didn’t want to risk one of the lurking paparazzi snapping an unflattering photo of me shoveling food in my mouth or chewing with big chipmunk cheeks for
Us Weekly
’s “Stars, They’re Just Like Us section
.” No way.

“No, this is huge,” Miki said as her face lit up and she became more animated. “Your show is not only going to have the full support of all the relevant magazines and websites, but
DivaDish
, along with Moët, is going to sponsor your All-Star party and stream it live on their site. Our PR team was also pushing for a magazine cover, but apparently Nia says she has some big exclusive already booked for the next issue. Not sure what could be bigger than the debut of your show, but
whatever.”

“I know that’s right,” I said as I pushed my bangs out of my eyes. “What could possibly be bigger than the launch of
Whatever Laila Wants
? It would have been great to have that cover at the All-Star laun
ch party.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Miki said as she shook her head and pointed her fork at me. “Seriously, this partnership, the social media stuff you’re doing, the dozen other TV interviews our PR team has set up, and the
Black Enterprise
cover, will guarantee tune-in for your show and definitely be the biggest launch we’ve
ever had.”

“Wow, Miki, I don’t even know what to say. And you know I’m never speechless.” Finally, things were really coming togeth
er for me.

“But I need to keep it one hundred with you, too, Laila,” Miki said, her gaze turning steely. “You must deliver on Marcus King. Everyone’s tuning in because they think they are going to be voyeurs into your secret relationship and your glamorous lifestyle. Your fans and viewers expect to get a window into a rarefied world that they don’t have access to, and frankly they want to be judge, jury, and possibly even executioner for this scandalous relationship. You have to prepare yourself for the hate that’s going to come your way. Marcus’s wife, Vanessa King, while not highly visible, is well liked especially because she’s the mother of his child. We tested you both in focus groups. You are going to feel the heat. But that always makes for great TV, and with as much shit as people want to talk about you, they are going to keep tuning in week after week and make you a very ri
ch woman.”

Now it was my turn to give this chick the real st
eely gaze.

“Let me keep it one hundred with you, too, Miki. You don’t know half the things I’ve had to do to get here, and there’s no way I’m ever going back. I don’t mean to sound like Oprah in
The Color Purple
, but all my life I’ve had to fight. I’ve had haters since the day I was born, and I’ll have them until the day I die. I’m about getting this money and getting my man. And there’s nothing that’s going to stop me, no matter what the little focus gr
oup said.”

“Nice. I like your gangster. And that’s exactly why I named the show
Whatever Laila Wants
. I’ll ride with you until the end as long as you deliver everything we discussed. This show can be a game changer for both of u
s, Laila.”

“Whatever you need, Miki. I
got you.”

“Cool. Legal is still reviewing the text messages, the tape-recorded conversations, and photos Steven sent over to make sure we have all the legal documentation we need to incorporate them into the show a
s needed.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said as I smiled and tilted my head so that the paparazzi could get a good s
hot of me.

Brixton Marshall was the celebrity stylist that Glam Network had hired to pull dresses, shoes, and accessories for tomorrow’s
Black Enterprise
photo shoot with Miki, as well as for all the All-Star events, including my big launch party at the end of the week. He had just completed his run-through with me, and as I closed the door of my hotel suite behind him and his team, I was relieved to be done with my eighth appointment o
f the day.

I walked past the two racks of designer dresses in sequins, feathers, leather, and silk in every imaginable color that Brixton had wheeled into the room just hours earlier. I had given him two requirements for all clothing: tight and tiny. Very simple. Luckily, he had brought his seamstress with him, as most of the dresses were too long for my tastes. I wasn’t some old lady, and my sexy-ass thighs that made men from coast to coast salivate were made to be seen and photographed, so we were definitely not selecting any dresses that would cover them up. I hit the Pilates studio
at least three times a week, and they were ready for their
close-ups.

Admittedly it had been fun playing dress up as I slipped in and out of fabulous party dresses from Dolce & Gabbana, Stella McCartney, Marchesa, and Hervé Léger for the first hour and a half, but I was worn out. I would have loved to take a nap before dinner at Crustacean in Beverly Hills with Shelly Jennings, the reporter from
Black E
nterprise
.

It was only Wednesday, but I was already exhausted. I was up at the crack of dawn yawning with the hair and makeup team by seven and in the chauffeured Lincoln Navigator by eight to head to the first appointments. All day there were interviews, appearances, and branding meetings. I felt like my smile was plastered on my face. But a hustler never sleeps. Just ask Kim K
ardashian.